


Why does a man buy clothes for his love? #42-15-16

by Palytoxin



Series: Love & Pride [14]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: But Rafa loves him anyway, Dirty Talk, Fluffy, Future Fic, Lonely & bored Roger is very dangerous, M/M, Melbourne, Shirt holder, after coming out, mirror, unbeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palytoxin/pseuds/Palytoxin
Summary: Roger is rejected to attend a PR event with Rafa. He is very very annoyed. Rafa gonna pay for it.





	Why does a man buy clothes for his love? #42-15-16

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this when I was finishing the part 13, and I found myself writing too much Roger and too less Rafa. So this is a practice for writing more Rafa ( and more talks and voices during.......⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
> *I found it's a little bit funny to read this and part 13 at one time, please give it a try~
> 
>  
> 
> Ps. I’m really confused with the word “lover”. Does it mean the same as boy/girlfriends, partners or it implies it’s more like just sex without a formal relationship? 
> 
>  
> 
> Please be free to comment～it's always a pleasure to know your thought or get kudos.  
> Thanks for reading~xoxo

 

 

 

Rafa jumps a little when a pair of hands clasp his waist stealthily. He is standing in front of the dressing mirror, taking off his dinner jacket deliberately. A strong body presses to him from behind, hugging him.

“Rogelio...”

He shivers a little. It’s the temperature difference that makes him. Roger’s warm body contacts to his cold one. He drank a little bit too much tonight. Before he came back, he stood in the hotel garden, giving himself a while to sober up.  


Roger buries his face on the crook of Rafa’s neck and shoulder, sniffing. Rafa got used to this long ago, Roger has an obsession to check where he goes, what he does by his smell,... and taste. A hand grabs his chin and turns it, then the proficient tongue strikes inside, exploring every corner it could reach.

“Cheese? Really? You don’t like it. “  
“Stop sulking. They did nothing wrong. “

He knows Roger still isn’t happy about KIA declining his attending, even it’s very sensible. They’ve discussed the arrangement several times. They both are respective endorsements for many competing brands. And none of those brands gave up them in their most difficult time. There’s no reason to bother them because Roger wants to follow him everywhere. Besides, he doesn’t want to attend Mat Gala again. It’s completely a disaster.

“I don’t care. I was lonely the whole night. You gonna make it up.”

Roger shifts closer, nudging his nose over Rafa’s hair like a feline marking his territory. He could feel the warm humid breath fanned through his well-starched collar. Rafa turns his head aside and pecks a quick kiss on the pouting lips. However, Roger isn’t really appeased. He keeps rubbing over every Rafa’s sensitive spot he knows about, the borderline where the bare skin meets the hairy one, the pale skin behind the delicate ear, the spot pulsing unevenly at the side of his neck. It’s tickling and sensuous at the same time. Rafa couldn’t stop the thrilling feeling arising from the small of his back and his knees buckling involuntarily.  


He stares at the mirror, watching those elegant but devilish fingers toying the exquisite nacre buttons of his shirt one by one and down to his belt buckle. His breath hitches. He wants to avert his eyes away, but Roger wouldn’t let him. The fingers pressing on his chin are too steely. Their eyes lock on each other in the mirror. And Roger doesn’t stop there. His hand slides down to the outer side of Rafa’s thigh then hovering to the back where the shirt holder covered under the fabrics. Roger is tracing its outline with his fingers back and forth.

“You know what a man buys clothes for his love means?”

Roger drawls in a very low and very suggestive voice, his breaths ghosting hot and wet, lips brushing over Rafa’s ear shell. Every single hair on his back stands up, responding to Roger’s recruitment. The feeling of drunkenness that took away by the night breeze comes back all of sudden. He starts feeling it’s too hot to breathe.  


It’s too much. Sometimes it scares him how easily Roger could play his body. He struggles a little, pushing those demanding hands, trying to leave the scene. But he has never succeeded before, nor could he this time as well. Roger clamps both his hands by wrists and presses them forcefully on the mirror. This is also his weak point. He still remembers clearly the first time they had sex in London decades ago, how Roger pinned him down by his hands on his wrists. The perfect pressure had kept haunting him in his dreams for years.

“Keep your hands on where I left them.” Roger commands and leaves a filthy kiss on his cheek.

A desperate whine leaks from his already dry throat. He has experienced enough to know what the next gonna happen. He is always bad at denying Roger, especially when his lips nip on the back of his neck constantly, his hands skimming everywhere over his body, his hard cock pressing so right to his needy ass. He has been kept hanging on all night too. Roger on purpose changed helping him dressing up into an unnecessarily long, torturing foreplay. He barely managed to step out their suite without embarrassing himself. And the belts which Roger made him use keep tugging his shirt, reminding him who is waiting for him back in the hotel. The dread feeling of losing control all comes back instantly at the time Roger touching him.  


The chocolate brown eyes darken as Roger unzips his trousers, letting the dark thin fabric fall open and sag down under the weight of his belt and pool around his feet, revealing that he is not wearing anything underneath. He is half-hard. He has been like this since this evening, before he finally dressed up. The cold metal zip has kept abusing him, just like Roger supposed it would do.

  
Roger strokes his buttocks with both hands and kneads them too obscene that makes him yelp in surprise. And he doesn’t spare the shirt holders, hooking the belt up high enough and let it whack back again and again until both violated cheeks are red and blistering hot while his cock is getting harder and harder with every hit and weeping miserably. But Roger takes no pity on it. All he could do is whimper in protest. Roger moves his hand up and up, snapping every button and skirting the little nubs on his chest. They’ve already hardened before anything touches them actually. Those depraved fingertips circling around them makes him helplessly writhe in the feather-like sensation and pressing them hard into Roger’s callous palms, seeking fraction wantonly.

“Wow, wow, baby...you really like this. “

Just one more pinch on the tips plus couples of fuck right between his cheeks, he is broken nonresistantly, by the hollowness of want eating him up from inside. He pushes back against Roger. He can’t stop himself.

“Baby, look at the mirror, look at yourself....”

The man inside the mirror is completely a mess, losing in the bliss of desire, his hair tousling, his eyes half opening and hardly focusing, his lips glinting with spit and blood, the shirt barely hanging on his shoulder, a rosy flush spreading all over his face and down to chest which rises up and down heavily. Countless red and purple hickeys and marks print over his left hipbone down to the inner thigh. His flushing cock curves up and precome dribbling. He is stunned. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He doesn’t know himself is like this. He finches, but Roger grabs him obsessively.  


“you don’t know how beautiful when you’re like this, baby, so greedy so hungry for my cock, always wants more. “

Roger is overenthusiastic, talking and growling nonstop, words slipping through between his grunted groans. His voice is shaking, breath shallow and fast, fingers gripping too tight that Rafa feels it hurt. They drag each other into an animalistic fanaticism, rubbing hard against each other fiercely, drowning in the pure carnal gratification. He hears himself sobbing. His hip bucks uncontrollably as if it had its own consciousness, grinding his bare ass to Roger’s clothed cock unashamedly.  


“You gonna come like this, right? I don’t even need to touch your pretty little cock. “

Roger ploughs his hip forward coupling with his every word, and Rafa is driven crazy.

He is really crying now, almost couldn’t breathe properly, choking on the excessive tear and spit forming by his own. The heat coiling inside his tummy is too much a suffering. He starts begging, broken words trembling out his mouth incoherently.

“Please, Rogi, argh, please please, por favor, ugh...need you...ah, argh”

“Yeah baby, come for me, you can do it, C'mon, Raf do it.”

He feels his balls tightening painfully, Roger’s fingers digging into his chest, nails grazing across his nipples, teeth sinking into his shoulder, then he is coming, white pulsing loads shooting toward the mirror.

He goes weak at the knees, unable to hold himself, sliding down along the mirror in front of him, both hands still lay on it as he was told.

 

Roger drapes himself over Rafa’s back, pressing his stiff cock tightly against his quivering ass, sucking his earlobe in between his teeth.

“I’ll make you lick it clean next time. “ 

He hears Roger snarling and couldn’t help himself but shiver in anticipation.

 

Roger gathers Rafa’s come with his fingers and breaches through the tight ring muscle. It‘s a little bit sore, but Rafa loves to be pushed. They have built a pattern after all these years that Roger makes him come first. Because he is often too tense to be opened. Orgasms can make him loosen up a little bit. And Roger is really big in all aspects. When they have time like tonight, Roger loves to open him up only with their come or saliva slowly. He hates everything inside Rafa except himself.

Roger’s fingers are way too talented and well-practiced, knowing him too well that his body can’t deny him too. His knees spread wider naturally like he did thousands of times before, exposing himself, giving Roger better access.  


The first digit penetrates easily, while his muscles are still slack in the afterglow, too weak to not yield to Roger’s will. The second one isn’t difficult, sliding in smoothly. But it starts to become strained when it comes to the third. Roger scissors his fingers, thumb pressing firmly along his stretched rim, coaxing it to give in.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. Didn’t I just fuck you open this morning?”

He couldn’t answer. It’s too difficult for him to even just hold himself together, let along forming any intelligent response. His fingers tremble and twitch, slipping constantly on the smooth surface of the mirror, leaving numerous sweaty fingerprints, but he never takes his hands off it even one second. Roger notices, humming approvingly, although he sounds a little breathless and desperate.

“Yeah, good boy. Keep them there.”

When he arches his back, his ass pushing up in the air, impaling himself on the thrust, when Roger twists and digs his fingers so hard and right on his prostate, he is done. He doesn’t even get hard again. He collapses, every muscle loosening bonelessly while his hands are still on the mirror, arms shuddering like hell. Roger holds him tight, taking his shaky hands into his own, stroking gently.

 

He blinks a few times to clear his vision and finds himself lying on Roger’s lap. His man is looking at him with fondness and affection in his soft brown eyes.

“You blacked out a while. Was it that good?”

He flushes, cheeks burning hot. He turns and buries his face on Roger’s stomach. Roger chuckles and start stripping all the remaining fabrics on him and removes the belt fastened on his thighs, wiping the mess on his stomach off. Then he wraps him up with a thick fluffy blanket, holding him up, walking him back to their bed. The fabulous dressing suit Roger bought him is completely ruined.  
 

They settle on the king-size bed comfortably. Rafa turns on his side and reaches toward Roger’s still erect manhood, unexpectedly stopped in halfway. He questions with his eyes. But Roger only strokes his hair and says he is tired enough.

“ So you need to be more gentle this time, no?“

Roger laughs a little, leaning closer and kissing him softly. Rafa couldn’t hide the grin on his face. They laugh into each other’s mouth. Roger holds him tight, their legs tangling under the sheet.

  
He is always surprised that he could still feel the stress of being stretched when Roger pushes lazily into him, even he is opened up so completely tonight. He lets out a yearning moan. Roger is so thick, so long. It reaches where fingers can’t. He loves the feeling of Roger fully inside him.

He snickers mischievously when he hears Roger groaning and his rhythm slips. He forces himself clenching around Roger even his muscles are extremely sore that he has to make his best effort to flex them.

“ Vamos Rogelio, faster!”

He shouts. But Roger grunts frustratedly.

“You‘re not helping! You said you want it gentle!”

“Not now! I want you come in me! Hurry!”

He is giggling and moaning. And Roger is really exasperated. He gives in. He speeds up. Rafa can’t stop laughing. He feels the fingers gripping on his hip digging in. It‘ll leave more marks, he thinks about the angry bruises appearing like petals on his skin tomorrow. Roger bucks his hip faster and harder, hitting his prostate every time he slams deep inside. He is almost screaming. It’s really too much this time.

“Por favor! Rogelio!”

He doesn’t even know what he wants or what he is saying. He is suffocated. Roger takes him in his hand and pumps him up and down in time with his thrusts. Their lips clasp tightly while they’re getting closer to the brink. All his muscles lock up and he feels his fingertips stinging. He can’t last any longer. Roger jerks a couple of times and comes and keeps fucking him through his whole orgasm and pours all he has in him. He messes up his stomach again. They kiss languishingly and stay a little longer to catch their breath before Roger pulls out and rolls off him. Rafa makes a grimace at the feeling of something leaking out. Roger laughs wholeheartedly and grabs the tissues on the bedside table to help him clean.

  
Despite they’re sloppy and sticky with all the sweat and come all over their bodies, they embrace in each other’s hug contentedly. Rafa can’t stop the happiness bubbling up inside him. He chortles and roles on Roger, peppering a lot of kisses over his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, kissing everywhere he could reach. And Roger starts kissing him back.

  
“Te Amo, Rogelio.”

“Love you, too, Rafael.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
